Daybreak
by chouxpastryheart
Summary: Bella Swan has issues. Social anxiety, borderline agoraphobia, and fear of intimacy top the list. But her life is about to be shaken and it just might have to do with her enigmatic next door neighbor. Could he be the one who helps her learn what it is to live? A love story of overcoming fear. Bella/Edward. Eventual M. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Hi, everyone. This is a short first chapter, but I'm working on more and have many ideas out there. Out of several stories forming in my head, I decided to focus on this one. Let me know what you think. AU, eventual M, Bella/Edward.

O O O

Chapter 1

I hate my next door neighbor.

Sure, he's only lived there 2 months, and we've only spoken once, but that one time was enough for me.

The _bump bump_ of a bass had been reverberating through my apartment for two hours now. He lives across the hall, but the hall is short and the building is old. I rolled over in bed, dragging my pillow under my chin and stretching onto my stomach. I glared at the wall.

_Thump thump_ _thump thump_.

I pictured a pixilated, cartoon version of myself whacking him over the head with a club to the beat of the song and for a moment I'm at peace. This could only entertain me for a minute and then I'm stewing again.

It's 11 PM on a Friday night. As I sit up onto my knees, now clutching the pillow to my chest, I try to remind myself that this is normal. That normal people have their friends over on Fridays. That Fridays are fun. That no one else in this building is worrying what I worry about, is alone like I am.

I hate myself for how melodramatic that sounds.

An hour later, when I'm finally drifting off to sleep, the beats and voices and laughter end. And there's the familiar pocket in my chest. Finally in silence, that pocket deepens.

O O O

It's only a long stretch of relief between Friday at 4 PM and Monday at 9 AM. The weekend is unremarkable It's just one of many clouds of smoke in my life that mean nothing, that accomplish nothing.

O O O

Monday morning comes with inevitable dread. I woke with a heaviness that seemed to press down on me in my sleep. Maybe it started when I pulled the comforter over my head protectively. Maybe it never really goes away. I showered, dressed, and ate breakfast reluctantly. I probably live life reluctantly, I admitted to myself, then got annoyed at my mopey self-reflections. But I can't stop. It's a terrible, oppressive habit and I'm lost in myself as I stare at the door. I furtively check the clock. 8:42 AM. I have to leave. I have to leave. _I have to leave_.

My palm is slick against the handle of my purse. I hated myself, but it's a familiar conversation. It's the same one I've had with myself for 9 years. Since the last 2 years of high school, the 4 years of college, and 3 years in between jobs that are roads without destinations.

_You have to do this_.

I can't.

_You have to. You can't lose another job. You have to._

Finally, I willed myself to grip the doorknob and twist.

It's just another day.

There's nothing to say of work. I go to Wheeler's Bookstore Monday through Friday. I do inventory. I help customers. I replace misplaced books that people carelessly leave wherever they please. Sometimes I get yelled it, but when I do, it's welcomed. The worst is over, I say to myself every time. I like that. The worst is over.

I've been here a year now and that's a record for me. I'm on relatively friendly terms with other employees, but I know they think I'm odd. A few times Jessica and Angela have invited me out for drinks after work. I'm always busy and I pretend to be really disappointed. I say "raincheck?" They gave up a while ago. So have I.

Many days, when I finally get in my car to head home, I cry. Just a little, though. Today I do, but I don't even really think of it. I started my car and within a few minutes was pulling into a parking space. My apartment building is a two story fourplex. I'm on the bottom, along with my neighbor that I hate. Sometimes the neighbor above me makes a lot of noise too, but I don't hate them. Today, when I opened the door of the entryway, I saw him standing by my front door. He turned, his calm, placid eyes on me. I immediately noticed a white envelope in his hand.

"I have some of your mail by accident," he said plaintively.

"Oh, okay…thanks." I took it. He stared at me in this steady, disconcerting way.

"Are you okay?"

Self-conscious, I looked down and put the envelope in my bag, even though I'd be going in in a moment. I hoped.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you."

I tried to angle past him, but he didn't move. "Excuse me," I said impatiently. My hands are starting to sweat again. I have to get inside. "Of course." He finally moved, flashing me a smile. I hate that smile. His teeth are too white. I hate that. "Thanks."

He's still looking at me when I close the door, a little too hard, and a breath _whooshes _out of me once I'm alone. The solitude folds over me like a comforting, warm blanket. _Safe_. That's the word. That's the perfect word. I toed my shoes off, flipped through my mail, including the new piece from _him_, and then fall into bed.

My bed is a perfect cocoon. It hugs me. It never fails me. It's never disappointing. It's like an old friend that never judges you. I've never had one of those, but I've heard of them, and the closest thing I have to it is my bed. After a couple of hours of feeling the tension leave my body, I felt ready to cook dinner.

O O O

He was still looking at the door somewhat dazedly. She was just a wisp of a girl, and she moved in and out of the building with the unassuming agility of a mouse. But she was interesting and of the now 2 times he'd spoken to her, she piqued his interest. Which, admittedly, wasn't the easiest thing to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Hey there. I seemed to snag a couple of readers, so thank you for following! I appreciate it and any feedback you'd like to give, constructive or otherwise. Please enjoy this longer chapter (and forgive any typos as I tend to miss those).

O O O

Chapter Two

I shifted uneasily in front of my manager. Sam was clearly upset, but seemed to be trying to control himself to some degree. I guiltily wrung my hands. I screwed up and I knew it. "Next time something comes up, you need to call in. You can't just stand us up without warning." My face burned. "I will. I'm sorry again." He sighed, running his hands through his short hair. "I…this is the third time this has happened. You're a great worker. You're good with the customers, especially the difficult ones. But I need to be able to rely on you."

I could hear the warning in his voice. "I promise, it won't happen again." I knew I couldn't really promise that. But I felt so horrible right now that I believed it. It wasn't just that I let Sam down, someone that I genuinely liked. I disappointed myself. The anxiety was unusually strong this morning and I had crumpled on the couch shaking, unable to bring myself to leave for two whole hours. It had been several months since something like this had happened and I had started to believe things were going well.

Then today.

Finishing his lecture, Sam finally looked at me with compassion. "Are you okay? Do you want to talk about something?" I glanced up at him, startled. His expression seemed sincere. For one tempting moment, I was compelled to share my dark secrets. But I shook my head. "Thank you, I'm fine." He nodded, resigned. "Okay, go on and finish your shift."

When I made it back to the front desk, Jessica was sitting there and looked at me curiously. Too curiously. "Everything okay?" she asked. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eyes. Jessica was nice enough, but I knew better than to trust her. I'd heard one too many gossipy rants over the last year to ever feel comfortable sharing with her. "It's nothing. Some stuff came up this morning." Jessica looked at me doubtfully, but shrugged her thin shoulders. "It happens."

_Yes, it does_.

We didn't talk much after that.

Walking to my car after work was a daze. I felt like crap. _I just want to go home_. Home, where it's safe. I felt naked and vulnerable and I could feel my hands starting to shake. I couldn't remember starting the car or getting halfway home; I was just jerked out of a stupor when my car veered to the side of the road, crashing against the curb. "Oh no. No no no no no." Stopping the car, I got out quickly, praying to god my tire was okay. There was that suspicious sound and…surely enough, the front right tire was blown. My heart sank. Why did I have to zone out like that?

I needed to go home and soon. Opening the trunk, I pulled out a can of fix-a-flat. Unfortunately, I didn't have a spare, and didn't know how to change a tire. I followed the instruction and sprayed the tire, the foam sealant hardening quickly. But then I had another predicament. Today was just a dud. I knew I needed to get home soon or suffer a panic attack. But even though my apartment was only a couple miles away, I really needed take my car to a mechanic. This was only a short, temporary fix.

But I imagined going to the mechanic. Talking to people. Waiting for my car. Not today. I couldn't do it today. Tomorrow was a new day and I'd take care of things then. Work was only four miles away. I'd walk in the morning then take my car in after work. Yes, that will be fine. _As long as the sealant holds_, a voice nagged at me. Ignoring it, I drove slowly and carefully and nearly tore the door open to get out and into my apartment. And sure enough, nearly ran into _him _in the entryway.

"Hi, Bella," he said, sounding surprised to see me again so soon. When I didn't reply, he scanned me up and down quickly. "What's wrong?" His voice sounded a little sharper now, more alert. "Nothing," I mumbled, fumbling with my keys. Crap. My hands were shaking. Crap crap crap. I had turned away from him now, trying to get inside. He didn't say anything. When I dropped my keys, I took a deep breath. _Okay, Bella,_ I said to myself. _You can't break down in front of this stranger_. _Pick up the keys slowly. Say goodbye. Don't let him know you're crazy_.

"Well, I'm just going to-" but he had already bent down beside me and now had his hand out with my keys. His expression was placid, but he was really close and my breath caught. I noticed he had his palm out flat with the keys, like how you'd offer a skittish animal some food in order to not intimidate it. For reasons completely unexplainable to me, it calmed me a little. That's strange. Human proximity always put my more on edge. A little dumbfounded, I looked up into his face dead on for probably the first time.

He was just looking at me. Nothing in his expression suggested he wanted anything from me, or thought I was weird, or was acting like a crazy person. He wasn't asking me any more questions. He was just…looking. This time I really could take a deep breath and take the keys. My fingertips brushed his palm and I didn't jump.

"…thank you."

"You're welcome."

It was that simple. My hands still now, I unlocked my door, walked inside, and closed it. I was careful not to slam it this time. For this one encounter, I was grateful.

Wow.

That was weird.

Even though I had been close to panicking and rushed to get home, I realized standing there that I felt okay again. A little more steady and sure footed and I couldn't fathom why. I set my bag down slowly, then sat down on the couch in the same spot I was this morning through the first couple of hours of my shift. I allowed myself to think about it a little more. It's amazing I wasn't fired. I was grateful to Sam, but at the same time nervous because…because I'd probably do it again at some point. What's changed? I'd lose another job. Lack of consistency was the reason I didn't have more money. I've always just gotten by, if that.

I briefly wondered what _he _did for a living.

Edward. I allowed myself to say his name.

He was always dressed rather nicely. And I once noticed him pulling out of the parking lot in a pretty nice Volvo. But he lived in a bit of a crappy building. I shook my head. It wasn't worth pondering over, really. I learned to stop being too curious about people a long time ago, when I realized it was futile to wonder if you would never know.

Worry about my car was nagging at me, but I couldn't bring myself to do anything about it. Tomorrow, I resolved. Tomorrow.

Well, damn. It was the next morning and I was crouching over my tire. It didn't hold. I got up earlier than usual. I had an hour and a half to get to work and now I knew I'd need it. It was going to heat up to 92 degrees today so that would suck on my way home, but I had no other choice. And there was another thing I'd have to do that I really, really didn't want to. I pulled out my cellphone and dialed the number quickly before I changed my mind.

"Hi, mom."

"Bella! I haven't heard from you in weeks!"

"I'm sorry. Really. I just – I've been busy."

"Busy?" Her dubious tone is irritating. I don't say anything.

"Well, you should check in every once in a while. How is work going?"

"Fine, it's fine."

"And you're going in every day?"

Ah, here it is. That's the rub.

"_Yes_."

"Don't use that tone with me. It's a fair question, isn't it? I worry about you, Bella, and it's natural. It's not as if you haven't given me reason to worry before."

The twinge of guilt turned into a stab.

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry. But I'm doing fine. And you know I'm always grateful for your help."

"Well, you should be, seeing as your father hasn't lent a hand since you were in diapers. Maybe that has something to do with your _– _your _issue_."

She'll never give it a name. Not ever.

"I guess, maybe."

"Bella, we have to learn to pick ourselves up by our bootstraps, as they say. It's what my mother taught me and what her mother taught her. No one is there to do it for us. We have to learn to fix ourselves."

"Yes, Mom."

The speech is almost comforting in its familiarity. I recalled its inception. I vividly remembered my mother saying similar words to my high school counselor, who had strongly suggested more_ professional_ help.

"Well, good. I'm…I'm – proud of you."

Before I lost my nerve, I blurted it out.

"Mom, I need help."

"What, are you okay?"

I quickly explained my predicament. How I didn't have a spare. That I couldn't afford a towing. I knew my mom loved me. Probably as much as any mom loved a daughter. I wasn't worried that she wouldn't help me. But I was afraid of her judgments on my _issue_, as she called it, and I knew that over the years she'd suffered a lot because of it. But for now, she didn't mention it.

"Honey, I'll send Phil over tonight. He'll change it for you, okay?"

"Mom, thank you. I-I I can't reimburse you for the tire now, but I promise I'll-"

"Don't even worry about it. We'll figure it out, okay?"

"Okay…thank you."

As I walked to work, I felt terrible. I'm 25, not an 18 year old kid. It felt so wrong that I still needed their help like this. I tried not to think about it as I walked to work. Truthfully, even though I was thin, I wasn't in great shape and rarely had reason for a lot of physical activity. At the end of the fourth mile, I was a little out of breath and was dreading the walk back during the hottest part of the day. To my surprise, Sam and I arrived at the front door at the same time. He usually came in an hour or two before the store opened.

"Bella," he greeted me pleasantly, yesterday's incident apparently forgotten. "How are you today?"

"I'm well, thanks."

He glanced behind me. "Did you walk?" he asked in surprise.

"Uh, yeah. My tire blew out yesterday."

"Oh, no. I hope you got home okay. You know…you can always call me if you need help." At that moment, Jessica arrived and seemed to catch the tail end of our conversation. Her eyes narrowed at me and I jumped a little. Whoa. "What are you two talking about? Is Bella okay?" she asked with what sounded like fake sincerity. Sam patted her on the shoulder. "Good morning, Jessica. Everything's fine. Go on and count the register." She blushed a little and nodded, opening the front door with her key. Sam and I followed. I considered her reactions to what just happened, but couldn't really decipher what they meant. She eyed me strangely for awhile before Angela showed up, breaking the tension.

Ten minutes before my shift ended, Sam pulled me aside. "Let me take you home." This time I blushed. Not because I considered it an overture, no way, not from Sam, but from nervousness. I hated sitting in cars with people. It was too close and I felt trapped. "N-no, I'm fine. I can walk. It's not far." He shook his head. "It's too hot, Bella. Please." I knew I couldn't get out of this one without being rude, so I consented. "Thank you…" I could feel Jessica's glare burning into my back as we left.

_This is awkward. Or is it just me?_ I sank down into the passenger seat of his Escalade. He didn't say anything at first as we pulled out into the street. I wasn't paying attention too much because I was just trying to keep my nerves in check. Normally I'd be in my own car right now, winding down. The coil tightened further instead of loosening. "Are you getting your tire changed soon?" he asked.

"Yeah, my stepdad is coming over tonight to fix it."

"Good."

More silence. We weren't too far away now, though, and I was feeling jumpy. Suddenly, I remembered this wasn't the first time he'd driven me. That's how he knew the way. Last winter we had a sort of freak weather incident of a little snow and sleet. It was so rare that while it was probably safe to drive on, most Floridians flipped out. Sam insisted on picking me up from work that morning since he lived nearby and his tires would naturally do better.

Suddenly, I was really grateful to him as a boss. He always looked out for me. I cleared my throat. "Thanks again."

"It's nothing."

I guess neither of us are talkative people. Actually, he was a pretty serious guy with a serious brow and we never chatted all that much. Regardless, there'd always been a good natured camaraderie between us and if it came down to it, I would say that I trusted him. Which isn't easy for me, at all. When he pulled up to my place a moment later, I immediately reached for the door handle. "If something goes wrong with your car, call me tomorrow, okay?" I paused in opening the door and looked at him in surprise. "Okay, I will. See you tomorrow."

As I walked towards my building, I thought I saw a flutter in the window of _his _apartment, but a moment later there was nothing. I quickly went into my own and I tried to relax a little before Phil showed up. As I lay in bed, tucked under my comforter, it hit me. These last couple of days had been out of the norm for me. I normally adhered to a strict routine. I wondered, with a strange sense of foreshadowing, if anything else would happen to disrupt my predictable existence.


End file.
